


Helianthus

by Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Mid-Canon, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-16 15:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate/pseuds/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate
Summary: Lucas has a garden that he tends to every week.It's all he has now.





	Helianthus

The sunshine that blanketed the field was especially bright today, it seemed. Indeed, Lucas was wearing a big straw hat meant to shield him from the sun's rays as he navigated the familiar, well-worn path through the forest, red rubber boots making soft indentations in the damp soil beneath him. Luckily, the trees served as further protection from the heat, casting cool shadows over the forest floor and sending pleasurable chills down Lucas' spine.

He should have been used to the forest by now, should have been unfazed by its majesty and its familiarity, but he wasn't. Lucas savored every moment he spent walking down the path, occasionally brushing away thin, low-hanging branches or stooping down to look at the wildflowers that sprouted between the blades of grass like fireworks in a green sky. Tazmily was becoming more and more industrialized, so he was grateful for the small fragments of nature that remained intact in his forest.

Lucas bent down to examine a berry bush, carefully squeezing a few of the fruits between his fingers to see if they were ripe. The ones that seemed to satisfy him were put into a small compartment in a satchel that he was carrying over his shoulder, along with various mushrooms and herbs. It was getting harder to find organic ingredients, he thought with a grimace, but he was good at making do with as little as possible. Maybe, if food was more plentiful than usual tonight, he could bake a pie or something. Though he knew it was most likely impossible, he let the thought comfort him as he continued down the path.

Eventually, the soft sound of rushing water met his ears, and he turned his attention to a small stream trickling through the forest in a haphazard path. Lucas smiled and reached into his bag again, producing a much bigger object: a watering can. He stooped down next to the river, scooping as much of the water as he could into the tin gardening tool, stopping only when it got too heavy for him to carry. He poured a few of its extra contents back into the brook and, with a surprisingly strong grip, he held the watering can at his side and resumed his walk.

It was a weekly habit of his, this little excursion. Back when he was younger, when his mom and brother were still alive, they'd go for strolls through the forest and collect ingredients for food to bring back to the house. Sometimes, if they were good, his mother would let him and Claus play in the stream, which had been bigger and deeper back then.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end, as Lucas had so painfully found out last year. Ever since his mother's death and his brother's disappearance, his father had been too depressed to work on the farm or the house. The rest of the Tazmilian residents had been willing to help at first, but ever since Fassad had shown up with those mysterious boxes, they had become more and more hostile toward him, leaving Lucas to fend for himself.

It was difficult, being the only person who really cared anymore. There were some days where Lucas found himself unable to get out of bed, unable to eat, unable to go outside and face the harassment and assault from people who used to be his friends. But then he thought of his mother, of Claus, of what they would say to him if he gave up like his father did, and he realized he had to keep going, for his own sake as well as everyone else's.

But that wasn't the only reason he went out on these weekly walks. No, he thought as he walked silently along the worn dirt path, there was always an ulterior motive, a secret reward waiting for him at the end of his travels that he had never told anyone about. It was his safe haven, the only place where he could truly feel secure nowadays, a place where he could finally relax and be himself, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

Lucas stepped out of the final clearing in the forest, grateful that the hat covering his eyes was able to block the bright rays of sunshine that flew in his face. He breathed in the fresh air, not wanting to let it go, preferring to savor it every moment it was in his lungs. When he finally exhaled, he looked around at the patch of bright gold and bronze that glimmered in front of him in the form of sunflowers, rising high above his head in a sea of petals.

"Hi, guys," he said to them, voice lighter and happier than it normally was when he was at home, "I'm back."

The flowers didn't answer, of course, but Lucas didn't mind. He liked to think that somewhere, somehow, his family was listening, channeling their spirits through the flowers, waiting for him to return and take care of them to keep their new physical forms strong. He could picture his mother's smiling face, Claus' laughter in his ears, and thought that they would be excited to see him.

"Sorry I'm a little late today. Dad was taking forever to eat his breakfast again." Lucas gave the flowers a melancholy smile before marching in front of them one by one, examining their stems, their petals, their leaves. They seemed to be blooming nicely today, he reflected. That was good. The new fertilizer must have been working well.

He set to work watering them carefully, making sure to apply what he thought was an equal amount of water to each of them. At this point, he knew what counted as too much or too little, so he didn't have any slip-ups or spills. He talked to the sunflowers as he worked, letting the sounds of the water be the backdrop for his speech.

"I think I'm getting better at cooking, though!" He brightened, sun kissing his pale face despite the hat and making his teeth gleam. "I'm not as messy as I used to be. The eggshells don't get in the yolks anymore when I crack eggs, and I can chop veggies and stuff without cutting my hands!"

The flowers bent slightly in the wind, and he took that as acknowledgement from his mother. Ever since he was small, she had told him that she would always be watching over him, even when she was dead and gone. While Lucas was older now, he still held out hope that maybe, just maybe, she was trying to communicate with him somehow, using the flowers as a medium. Maybe Claus was there too, listening and chiming in in his own unique way. Lucas clung to that idea like a lifeline. It gave him someone to talk to, something to believe in, something to keep him going.

"I've also been teaching Boney some new tricks!" he said, addressing his brother this time. "He's gotten so big that when he barks, it scares the sheep! If he stands up on his hind legs, he's almost as tall as Dad!"

The flowers swayed in the breeze yet again, sprinkling a few droplets of dew onto Lucas' clothing. He laughed, wiping himself off and picking up the nearly-empty watering can. That was definitely a Claus response.

"Hey, knock it off! Mom, Claus is teasing me again!"

The wind slowed to a stop, and the dew dripped off of the flowers' leaves onto the ground below them. Lucas shook his head, reaching into his bag and pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

"That reminds me," he said as he produced a small packet of seeds, "everyone in Tazmily has been acting really weird ever since you guys...left." He bit his lip and winced, marching over to a bare patch of dirt behind the garden. "Y'know those boxes I told you about? The ones that the guy with the monkey gave everyone? Ever since he showed up, people are becoming...meaner? I don't know."

He frowned, digging a small hole in the dirt with a trowel he was carrying in his pocket. He placed a seed inside of it and covered it up by scooping dirt into his gloved hands and patting it gently over the hole. He repeated this process at least five times, burying new seeds as he spoke.

"Like, Fuel pushed me the other day, but this time it really hurt. I was on the ground and crying and he just walked away."

He almost felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the memory, but he had trained himself to force them back at this point. He poured the remnants of the watering can's contents over the freshly-planted seeds, feeling a strange sense of unease as all of it was drained.

"And Nana told me she didn't want to talk to me anymore, and Richie and Nichol throw stuff at me sometimes." He swallowed down the lump in his throat, staring down at the dirt. "I tried to stand up to them like you told me, but that only made them mad. So I don't talk to them anymore."

He stayed silent for a little while, staring at the ground and letting his mind race with memories that he didn't want to recollect. Happier times, times of friendship and love and joy that he no longer experienced, when everyone was alive and friendly and Tazmily was still a quiet, peaceful village, free from conflict and strife. He missed those times. He missed them and he knew he was being a crybaby but he couldn't help it, he missed his mom and his brother and his dad and his friends and Tazmily and-

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in deep breath after deep breath. He wouldn't cry. He told himself he wouldn't cry. What would Claus think of him, if he was still alive? _Was_ Claus even alive? Lucas wanted to believe that he was, wanted to believe that his brother was still out there somewhere, but the possibility was admittedly very slim. He talked to Claus through the flowers just in case, in the event that he really was dead and lonely up in the afterlife or wherever he was.

"I miss you," he murmured, not sure who he was addressing anymore, "I'm sorry." He didn't know why he was apologizing, but he felt as if he had to do so, as if it would solve all of his problems. "I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could think to say, the only thing he could do now that they were gone. "I'm sorry."

He wished his mother was there to stop him from breaking down, letting his tears soak the soil below and claw their way between the damp cracks. He wished Claus was there to cheer him up with a stupid joke or something so he could laugh instead of sob to himself, trembling on the slightly muddy ground.

"I'm sorry," he continued, "I'm s-sorry, I'm trying, I'm trying so hard, I just can't do it, I need you, I know I'm being a crybaby but I'm sorry-" He broke off, practically choking on his sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Part of him waited for a sign, some kind of reassuring breeze to blow the flowers backward in his direction, but it never came. He was alone. His family was gone. His mom was dead and Claus probably was too and his dad was alive but basically dead because he wouldn't get up or do anything on his own and Lucas was scared, he was so scared and he wanted his mom and he wanted everyone to come back and start behaving normally again, he was just a kid he couldn't do anything on his own he was useless, useless, he didn't know why he was still here when everyone else was either dead or corrupted or just plain gone but he was a failure, a disappointment, no wonder everyone started picking on him, it was his fault, he didn't know how but it must have been his fault because why else would Claus have run away, why else would his dad be ignoring him, why else would all his old friends turn against him??

He let the cries continue to ravage his body, let the tears flow until they had run their course, let himself be vulnerable and weak and a complete failure until his vocal cords were too hoarse to carry on and his body was too dehydrated to cry anymore. He coughed and panted, wiping his face and lying down on his back to stare up at the clouds with a blank expression and a pit of sorrow still residing in his heart, sucking away any of the joy that he would have gotten out of watching such a beautiful sight. He used to enjoy looking at the sky, but now he had no one to enjoy it with, and he didn't know if he'd ever find anybody who would now that everything was changing.

He simply stared ahead of him, unmoving save for the occasional sniffle. He forced himself to focus on the slow, steady movement of the clouds, his breaths coming out shaky and uneven. He had to be strong. What would Claus say if he saw him snivelling like a baby? He'd tell him to be brave, because they were both going to grow up and be heroes, and heroes didn't cry and miss their mothers. So, even though he didn't feel like much of a hero, Lucas continued to gaze into the clouds, waiting for the grief to fade away until it became slightly less unbearable.

"What's it like?" he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain could. "Y'know, up there, or wherever you guys are?"

Silence. The sunflowers had gone completely still, almost as if they were listening to him.

"Are there sunflowers up there? And omelettes, and dragos, and lakes?"

The entire forest seemed to have stopped moving, but Lucas was no longer paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, trying to paint a picture of the place his family had gone to. Were they happy? Were they scared? Did they miss him? Were they ashamed of him?

"I hope it's nice. I hope you're having fun. I wish I could join you."

A short gust of wind caused the grass beneath him to tickle his skin. The sensation was just enough to remind him of where he was and what he was doing. He sighed and picked himself up off the ground, smearing away a few stray tears with the back of his arm.

"I guess...I should get going now," he said, "sorry. It's almost dinnertime, and Dad's probably really hungry."

He picked up the now-empty watering can and made his way past the garden, just barely able to register the staggering height of the flowers. Had they always been that tall? It seemed like just yesterday he had been planting their seeds for the first time. They had grown so fast. His mom would have been proud of his gardening skills.

"I'll be back next week, unless it rains. It hasn't been raining a lot lately, but I don't want to get my clothes wet." It was a silly concern, one that Claus had always teased him for, but he felt the need to reiterate his stance just to regain a sense of normalcy in the one-sided conversation he was having. "Seeya next time. I love you."

The flowers swayed gently, and Lucas felt a tiny smile prick at the edge of his lips. Maybe that was Mom waving to him. He raised his arm and waved back, adjusting his bag with his other hand.

"Okay, I'm going now! Bye!" He was still waving by the time he got to the path that lead back to his home, calling out farewells all the while. "Sayonara! See you later! Next time! Again! Goodbye!"

Eventually, the flowers faded out of his field of vision, obscured by trees and bushes and tall grass that came all the way up to his knees. Lucas' hand slumped back down to his side as he leaned against a nearby tree with a sigh.

He knew it was hopeless in the end. He knew that they weren't really listening, that he was just talking to himself and a field of plants. But in the end, what was there to do? Who else could he turn to now that everybody hated him? Gardening was the only comfort he really had anymore. At least the sunflowers couldn't turn against him. At least the sunflowers were willing to let him love them and care for them. At least the sunflowers didn't judge him for being so weak and pathetic.

So, with one final glance in the garden's direction, he set a course for home, trying to keep the spare tears from leaking out of his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> update 11/13/19: its been some months since i posted this fic. in that time, my father died. i wrote this fic to cope with all the other relatives i have lost in my life, and now that its been a while, i can say i relate to this fic more strongly than before.
> 
> i often talk to myself or to inanimate objects to cope with loneliness, and i project onto lucas a lot. this fic was basically just me describing how i cope with the loss of so many loved ones, something i felt applied perfectly to lucas.
> 
> things have gotten a little bit better since my dad died, but it still hurts. looking back on this fic is a painful experience now. im still proud of it, but it hits harder for me.
> 
> so i decided that im dedicating this fic to my dad. i hope hes proud of me, wherever he is. maybe this way, i can turn this fic into something more positive for myself, despite the pain of losing him. i want him to be remembered not just in my heart, but in the hearts of all who read this story.


End file.
